


A Moonlight Serenade

by DiminutiveFox



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 16,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8098186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiminutiveFox/pseuds/DiminutiveFox
Summary: A collection of short drabbles and ficlets, capturing moments of nostalgic whimsy with a hint of hope and melancholy.I found a prompt list of non-sexual acts of intimacy on my dash one day and decided that unlike most other prompt lists I wish someone would ask me to do, I’d copy/paste it to OneNote and maybe I'd draw some of them when inspiration struck. Then, one night after watching Civil War I pulled open my laptop and started to write…the following is a result of that sustained burst of inspiration.





	1. Finding the Other Wearing their Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> I challenged myself to set all of these after the events of The Winter Soldier and Civil War. At least a time further down the line where everyone is back at the Avengers Compound, Bucky's included as part of the team. I don’t know how they’d work that out with all the bad blood there with a few people...but it doesn’t really matter for these ficlets. 
> 
> These can be read platonically or romantically, however you want! 
> 
> Special thanks to KChan88 and ariadneslostthread who both encouraged me to actually post these and who inspire all the cuddles. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War – couple months later

Bucky smirked. Steve was wearing his sweater. He was half curled into the chair, sleeping, sketchbook sliding down his knees into his midriff, hands tucked away out of sight, head tipped back against the chair. Bucky took a step further, bit his lip thoughtfully, then prodded Steve gently on the arm.

“Hey.” Bucky said softly as Steve blinked himself awake. Well, a rough approximation of awake at least.

“Hey,” Steve replied, a little groggy from sleep.

“Alright?”

“Yeah Buck, m'fine. Just really tired, apparently.” Steve smiled a small self-deprecating smile as he shuffled himself more upright, careful of his sketchbook. Bucky hovered, eyes roaming the page in Steve”s lap.

“S'real good.”

Steve hummed a noise they both understood to mean 'thanks'.

“I promised Nat I'd finish it before she comes back.”

“She never says when she's coming back though.”

“I know. Hence falling asleep in the chair.” Steve stretched. “Getting too old for this.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh and folded himself onto the nearest seat, pulling a throw blanket over his shoulders as he did so. Steve watched him fondly, still having those moments where he couldn't quite believe that he had Bucky back.... more or less. He suddenly realised what he was wearing as Bucky tugged the blanket around him a little tighter.

“You want this back? Sorry, forgot I kinda stole it.” He pulled at the hoody but Bucky stopped him.

“Nah, it's fine, got a blanket. You can't draw all wrapped up like this though, so, you're good.”

Steve grinned and settled back again.

“I won't get charcoal on it, I promise.”

“Yeah, you will. Always used to.”

Steve's smile was warm, a little shy and a little proud, the way it always was when Bucky remembered some inconsequential detail from their lives before the war. And this, sitting around, Steve drawing, Bucky watching, being warm and comfortable and tired after a busy day, was as familiar as breathing. 


	2. Holding Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War – couple months later

“Do you mind...? Is it alright if I..?” Steve asked haltingly, waiting until Bucky gave him a tiny nod of permission before he moved, slowly, gently - though that was a bit absurd seeing as how dangerous the arm - no. _His_ arm, could be. Steve took Bucky’s left hand in his own. It wasn’t as cold as he’d expected. It was cooler than body temperature though and Steve fought back the urge to rub it between his hands to warm Bucky up.

Bucky watched him warily, still on edge, skittish, Steve could hear how Bucky was fighting to control quick, anxious breaths. He was a taught with tension, coiled up and about to implode or explode and Steve desperately wanted to touch, to soothe and calm.

Steve didn’t pull him into a hug though, sometimes after a nightmare Bucky wanted that, would hold Steve close until the shivering stopped and he felt warm again. Sometimes though Bucky would push him away, and anything else that happened to be near him, as if the lightest touch pained him. Sometimes he would seem to want both the closeness and the distance. Steve hated to see the pained frustration in Bucky on those occasions when his presence didn’t soothe and his distance only hurt.

So Steve followed Bucky’s lead, got a few bruises along the way and shrugged them off. Tonight seemed to be a cautiously close night, one where Bucky might suddenly change his mind. It had occurred to Steve that perhaps reaching to take Bucky’s metal hand was not the wisest of choices, that hand could crush Steve’s fingers if Bucky was spooked suddenly. But Bucky’s other hand was currently holding the pillow under his head in a vice grip and Steve couldn’t reach it anyway.

“This ohkay?” He checked in softly, running his thumb over Bucky’s knuckles...or the plates that made Bucky’s knuckles...

Another tiny nod from Bucky, though, Steve wondered just how much feedback he got from the metal hand. Enough to manipulate delicate weaponry firing mechanisms at least.... but could he really feel Steve’s gentle touch? Bucky never really treated his metal arm any differently from his right arm, so he hoped Bucky could feel it when he pressed his hand, gently but firmly, pressing comfort into the plates.

The metal was cool like glass or stone polished slick smooth. It reflected the soft lamp from the bedside table, set to its lowest setting so it was little more than a warm glow, more than enough for super soldiers to see by.

Steve knew Bucky hated being stared at when he was feeling so vulnerable, so instead Steve gave himself over to consideration of Bucky’s metal fingers interlaced with his. The contrast of gleaming silver and warm flesh made him want to paint, to capture the light just as it was. He couldn’t say that he hated the arm. True, it was a vivid and unavoidable reminder of the massive amounts of trauma and abuse that Bucky had been through, but seeing how at ease Bucky was with it made Steve see it in a different light too. Whatever Bucky’s thoughts about it, he’d accepted that it was part of him. Steve didn’t know if he had it in him to do the same, but then, Bucky had always been the wise one.

Steve moved slowly, telegraphing his movement so Bucky could see and stop him if he wanted to, he brought up his other arm and laid it on top of the back of Bucky’s hand. He traced some of the lines and patterns in the plates with his thumb as if he were tracing soothing patterns into the back of anyone else’s hand. Bucky was holding himself very still, apart from the steadily calming of his breath. Steve gave him his space and let his eyes roam over the plating running up Bucky’s arm. Even if he hated what they had done to him, Steve had to admit he the arm was a thing of incredible intricacy. The artist in him wondered if Bucky would be alright with him drawing some studies, but he shied from that train of thought. Even if Bucky was likely to say yes, Steve couldn’t help the feeling that it would be too close to examining Bucky like some object, as if he were a still life and not a living breathing miracle.

Steve huffed a small amused noise, catching himself before the thought spiral dragged him down to dark places any further.

Instead he flicked his eyes to Bucky’s face. The wildness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a tiredness. There was still tension in his jaw and in the way he held himself still so true relaxation was a while off, but Steve felt a careful returning pressure on his hand. Just a small tentative squeeze that let him know that Bucky was beginning to feel calmer and that he wanted Steve to stay.

“Shall I stay down here?” Steve asked in a tone that he hoped conveyed that he was happy to stay on the floor if need be. Bucky answered with a firmer tug on Steve’s hand and a slight shuffle backwards to make room. Steve crawled onto the bed and lay down facing Bucky, tucking one hand under his head, out of the way, whilst keeping hold of Bucky’s metal hand. He wasn’t sure what good it would do, how much Bucky would feel, but Steve brought their joined hands up between them, he pressed the back of Bucky’s hand to his chest and hoped that the rhythm of his own deep breaths would help.

“Gonna go back to sleep?” Steve asked. Some nights Bucky was able to drift off again in moments after waking from a nightmare. Sometimes he would have to distract himself enough to feel sleepy again. The stack of books and a handy Stark pad on the nightstand were testament to many nights of broken sleep.

Bucky didn’t look like he wanted to wake up enough to read though, this latest bad dream and adrenaline rush that followed seemed to have taken it out of him. Bucky curled a little closer to Steve, still cautious, and closed his eyes with a deliberate sigh. Steve pressed his hand a little harder, knowing what it felt like to want to just will away the nervous breathlessness and prickling fear in your chest. He closed his eyes and breathed. It took another ten minutes for Bucky’s breathing to slowly even out to match Steve’s. Only when the metal hand in his went totally limp with sleep did Steve crack open an eye to make sure there were no lines of tension on Bucky’s face. Steve smiled when he saw Bucky’s eyes were closed, his features relaxed in sleep. Satisfied that Bucky was resting again Steve closed his eyes and let sleep come washing over him, keeping Bucky’s metal fingers entwined with his.


	3. One Falling Asleep with their Head in the Other's Lap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - Half a year later

It had happened in three stages. Firstly, Steve had flopped down onto the sofa without his usual careful grace. He rested his head back against the sofa, his hair still damp from the shower. Clad in soft pyjamas Steve was the picture of exhaustion. Bucky was curled up on the sofa, book in hand, at least three cushions strategically placed for the most comfortable reading position. He nudged Steve’s leg with his toes when Steve’s hand landed on his foot and squeezed.

The second stage happened when Steve’s posture went from flopped down to properly slouching and he began to list to the side. Bucky watched it happen in his peripheral vision, but even without that he would have known he was sliding down when Steve’s weight began to fall on his legs.

The third stage was when Steve apparently stopped fighting sleep altogether and slumped right over. Bucky huffed a laugh as the slight impact of landing in Bucky’s lap startled Steve awake again. Steve began to push himself up but Bucky didn’t let him get very far, pushing him back down and kept his hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve raised an eyebrow at him but Bucky pointedly avoided his eye and went back to his book. He felt Steve settle more comfortably in his lap, his head and shoulder a heavy, comfortable weight on him.


	4. Cuddling in a Blanket Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - One month later

“Better?” Steve asked, grin still plastered across his face. Bucky sometimes felt he should be wearing sunglasses against that level of bright. He gave their surroundings a critical look. They had trashed the living room. The sofas had been stripped of cushions and moved, the lamps had also been moved and several sheets had been draped over them to form a tent like structure. The afternoon light was filtering through the layered sheets making everything in the blanket fort look as soft as if felt.

“What is it?” Steve prompted. “Not enough blankets?”

Bucky gave Steve a half smile and knew that Steve would be able to read the goose-bumps on his flesh arm and the lines of tension he couldn’t convince his body to relax.

“Alright, wait here,” Steve shuffled his way out of the fort, somehow managing not to tangle his feet in the swathes of blankets and cushions already piled up around the floor between couches. Bucky watched Steve disappear from his field of vision, most of the common area was totally obscured by folds of fabric. He brought his crossed legs closer in, held his flesh arm tighter with his metal one, took a long breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He felt like some kind of horrific baby bird in a bizarre nest, an image that was only encouraged when Steve returned less than a minute later carrying with him the weighted blanket he’d fetched from Bucky’s room, draped over his shoulders like wings.

“What’s so funny?” Steve said as he ducked back in.

“We made a nest. You look like a bird.” Bucky explained.

Steve chuckled. “Thought I’d heard the last of the eagle jokes from you, guess I was wrong.” Steve crawled over and settled himself next to Bucky, kneeling up so he could lay the heavy blanket across his shoulders. Bucky reached up with his left hand to tug the blanket closer. It was a getting better. It was soft and the weight of it felt good, pressing on him.

“I think that’s all the blankets we’ve got, without raiding everyone else’s rooms that is.”

Bucky’s mouth twitched, it was asking too much for a full smile today, but that was okay. Steve always said it was okay. If he asked him to, Steve would probably go raiding for every blanket within the compound and then have some more ordered in. Bucky shuffled a little, reached out and found Steve’s arm, still with his metal arm. He’d tucked his flesh and bone hand in the bend of his knee tight and secure.

Bucky was glad of their years and years of friendship that let him communicate without words what he wanted, because Steve shuffled closer and wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

“Blanket not quite enough then, huh?”

Bucky shook his head.

“Alright, wait a second...” Steve shuffled around a bit, rearranging things, he put his back against the sofa - currently hidden by a mound of blankets and cushions and the pillow Sam would now be missing.

“Come’ere.” Steve said, tugging on Bucky’s arm and arranging him beside him, pulling him into his side. Bucky went willingly, curling his toes under Steve’s legs, wrapping his hands in the material and pressing them close into Steve’s ribs. He let his head rest on Steve’s chest and finally felt the cold leech away from his bones. Steve let one hand rest around Bucky and tucked the blanket around him with his free hand.

They were quiet together for a while, Steve radiating satisfaction and a vague feeling of childish glee at having wrecked the living room to make the fort. Bucky felt like he was soothed enough to sleep, or at least settle in for some television. Except….

Bucky groaned, mostly into Steve’s shirt.

“What is it?” Steve asked, resting his head on top of Bucky’s head.

“We covered the screen.” Bucky explained. Steve looked up, he couldn’t even see the wall the television was mounted on.

“So we did. I could go get my laptop?” Steve suggested but Bucky made a noise of protest and huddled closer.

“Five more minutes?”

“Ohkay Buck, five more minutes.”


	5. Sharing a Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War – several months later, visiting Clint and his family.

“You shoulda’ had a place like this.” Bucky mused sleepily. Steve settled himself onto the bed next to him. He’d tried insisting that he’d be fine on the floor but Bucky just wouldn’t have it.

“I dunno. Seems to work for Clint. Think I’d get tired of getting called into work all the time.” Steve shifted a bit, trying to fit comfortably on the bed that was perhaps a little too small for both him and Bucky. It was a problem they’d been used to since the rescue from Azzano back in the forties and Steve had his new broad shoulders to fit in. But Steve had always been the one curling around Bucky whenever they’d shared. His breathing didn’t feel constricted that way and he could easily roll away if he got too hot and Bucky didn’t have to worry so much about Steve’s sharp elbows digging into him. Bucky had found it hilarious the first time Steve had wrapped his new, larger frame around him, nearly engulfing him entirely. Steve had struggled to hold back his own laughter as Bucky shook with suppressed mirth at the absurdity of it all.

Things were a little more evened out now though, Steve thought as he squirmed, trying to find a way to lie down so he wasn’t in danger of smothering Bucky, who didn’t appear to be worried about it at all.

“Settle down, Rogers.” Bucky said, burying his face in the pillow. Steve grinned at the memory of the countless times Bucky had said those exact words to him at various times throughout the years. He shuffled about a bit more and was only slightly surprised when Bucky’s arm snaked around his waist and pulled him closer. Steve chuckled softly as he arranged his limbs, tucking another pillow under his head to cushion it better over Bucky’s left arm that he stubbornly refused to move out of the way. He pulled the cover over them both, deliberately over doing it when tucking Bucky in which earned him a jab in the ribs. Steve breathed, relaxed, revelled in the warmth and the nostalgia.

He and Bucky had ended up sharing a bed several times since he’d got him back. Sometimes it had been because Bucky needed Steve to be there so he could sleep, nightmares, flashbacks, tension wringing him out until he just wanted Steve there to prove he was a creature of flesh and blood and not a machine. Sometimes it was Steve who had needed Bucky. He’d needed to feel him there, close and breathing, warm and real to chase away his own nightmares fuelled by guilt or aliens in New York or plane crashes and air raid sirens and ice. The times when they’d fallen asleep together on the sofa were beginning to outweigh the times when they’d clung to one another to stave off panic and anxiety, and it was getting better. Just the other week Bucky had shyly followed Steve to bed for no other reason than he wanted to be there. He had done that before the war, sharing Steve’s space even when it was warm and it was a rare occasion when Steve wasn’t coughing or feverish or anything much else beyond the usual aches and pains he’d had before the serum.

So, Steve smiled and left his hand resting on Bucky’s shoulder above the covers, feeling it rise and fall gently beneath his palm, letting the rhythm of Bucky’s sleep lull him into slumber too.


	6. Head Scratches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - A few months later

“No room here, Cap.” Clint groused, beer in hand, slouched comfortably on the sofa taking up at least two seats.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Steve smiled. “Gimmie that cushion instead?” Natasha pried the cushion out from under Clint and threw it to him and Sam threw him another one from his side of the couch. Steve paused for a moment, debating where was the safest place to get comfortable on the floor. He decided to plunk down in front of Sam and Bucky, neither of them were likely to use him as a foot rest or guilt him into giving foot rubs. Sam liked popcorn too much to put any down his back and in any case he’d probably be more occupied with mildly irritating Bucky. Steve also hoped he might be able to forestall the inevitable cushion smothering that would happen when Sam ran his mouth too much and Bucky snapped. No-one had been seriously injured yet, but Steve was definitely wondering how this sibling level of relationship had sprung up between them.

“Now that the veterans are here,” Tony began, waltzing in from the kitchen with a massive bowl of popcorn in one hand and a case of beers in the other, he threw a guarded look at Bucky as he settled himself. Steve knew he wasn’t entirely ready to have Bucky in the same room as him yet, so he was grateful for the effort Tony was making. “Shall we get started?”

It had been Clint’s idea for movie nights at the compound, claiming they all needed to do something desperately normal together before they forgot what normal human interaction was like. It was difficult to accommodate to everyone’s tastes but saving the world together was good at building team spirit and so compromise and taking turns seemed to come a little easier.

At some point during the second film of the evening Steve let his head rest back against the sofa, except by now Bucky had also managed to relax with all the company around and uncurled a bit, so Steve wound up leaning on Bucky’s leg. Sam had also slouched down and Steve found himself bracketed by the corner of the sofa on one side and Sam’s leg on the other. It was cosy and comfortable and he was enjoying the film. For once no-one was arguing or bickering, nothing was on fire, no disasters needed their attendance and somewhat miraculously, Bucky seemed to be doing alright tonight.

It hadn’t been a fantastic couple of days for Bucky. Steve still wasn’t sure exactly what had triggered this latest spell of heightened anxiety and prickliness. Bucky wasn’t really sure either. That was alright, they’d work through it, wait it out, let it pass. Steve hadn’t been sure how the movie night would go, but Bucky insisted on sitting in, it had become part of a good routine, even though the prospect of company had him nearly shaking. Sam had thought keeping the routine was a good idea, and, seeing as there had been no violence behind him, Steve figured Sam had sat with Bucky intentionally. All the same, he didn’t want Bucky to think that he couldn’t manage through a whole evening without Steve checking in with him, making sure he was alright, so he resisted turning around.

Bucky must have known he was itching to though. Steve startled when a hand gently patted his head. He strained his neck to look back at Bucky. He had slouched down until he was mostly lying down using the arm rest and a cushion as a pillow. It was the most relaxed Steve had seen him in a couple of days. In fact, he looked very close to falling asleep.

“M’fine.” Bucky mouthed. His fingers scratched lightly on Steve’s head and Steve tried not to lean back into it too much. He didn’t want the others thinking they could get away with giving him head scratches. Natasha would definitely exploit that. Satisfied that everything really was alright, Steve turned his attention back to the film. After a moment he felt Sam lean down closer to him so he could whisper.

“Head scratches, huh?” Steve rolled his eyes. He’d have words with Bucky when he was feeling better.


	7. Sharing a Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - Several months later

Bucky found Steve in the kitchen, sitting at the table with what could only be described as a mountain of an ice cream sundae in front of him. He sat down opposite him and had to lean to the side a little to see Steve properly. He gave the sundae a significant look, then raised his eyebrows at him.

“Don’t judge me. You didn’t have to sit through that meeting. I did. I earned this.”

“That bad, huh?”

Steve held up a spoon of now melting ice cream. “This is an artistic representation of my mental state right now.” He popped the spoonful in his mouth as Bucky smirked.

“Brains are currently melting?”

“Near enough. But,” Steve loaded up another huge spoonful, “S’over now. I’m free for the evening. What have you been up to?”

Bucky gave a half shrug. Truthfully he’d spent a good part of the afternoon attempting to do things without making much progress.

“Tried to read, tried watching stuff, tried napping, that was a mistake.”

“Nightmares?”

Bucky nodded. “Nothin’ too bad.”

Steve snorted, “Kay pal, but your definition of bad is a different scale to most.”

“I didn’t break anything and you didn’t come back to find me a sobbing mess huddled in the corner.” Bucky gave him another smirk, this one more than a little self-deprecating. Both scenarios had happened before.

Steve considered him for a moment, then stood and fetched another extra-long handled spoon from the draw. He proffered it to Bucky and resumed his seat when Bucky took the spoon.

“I might have over-estimated the required amount of ice-cream.” He admitted.

“What? You? Biting off more than you can chew? Unheard of.”

“Laugh it up pal, you want to share or not?”

“And help you finish something you started thinking you could handle it alone? Never had to do that before.”

Steve laughed out loud, shaking his head. Bucky rolled his eyes at him and dug into the sundae, discovering there were in fact pieces of brownie, cookies and something suspiciously like half melted marshmallow.

“Do we have to have that talk about your suicidal tendencies?” Bucky asked seriously through a mouthful. “If the meetings are that bad I don’t think you should go anymore.”

“Bout half way through Wanda mentioned something about ice cream and I couldn’t get it out of my head and by the end of it I was either going to eat this or break another punch bag.”

“See,” Bucky gestured with his spoon at Steve, “This is what I’m talking about. Either way you end up hurting yourself.”  He could tell by Steve’s grimace that he recognised Bucky’s “I didn’t spend all that time keeping you alive for this” tone.

“I don’t think a sundae is gonna kill me, Buck.”

“Well if me eating half of this is gonna save you from a stomach ache later I suppose I’ll just have to do it.”

“This is not the hardest thing you’ve had to do for me.”

“No, it’s not. Defending you from the others when they find out you cleared out the ice cream draw is probably gonna be on the list though.”

 


	8. Shoulder Rubs/Falling Asleep Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - One year later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined two prompts into one when I realised that these two fellas were just gonna end up falling asleep after watching a calming film like a Mayazaki!

Bucky hurt. He wasn’t the only one, everyone was feeling their bruises from the latest adventure in stopping the bad guys. He knew he had a lot to be thankful for, his body could take a lot more beating than a few of the others. Tony had been stumbling from the kitchen to his lab with three ice packs taped haphazardly to various limbs. Bruce had sequestered himself away in a hot bath for hours and had yet to reappear. Natasha had warned them in her most serious tone not to disturb her and Steve had slept for an age.

So, things in the compound were quiet, Bucky wasn’t sure he was happy about that, for once. The quiet could be nice when things were a little nosier inside his head, but right now he wanted a bit of company, some distraction to take his mind away from the aches. He shuffled into the kitchen and sought out the mini-fridge dedicated to the ice packs and cooled gel packs and the injury peas. There were also a couple of grain bags cooling in there. He picked out a large one of those and limped his way back to the sofa. It was only after sitting down he realised his mug was empty, he sighed, dragged himself back to the kitchen and made the slowest most pitiful cup of tea ever. His right hand was a little shaky, so he gripped the mug with his left instead.

His spot on the sofa was surrounded with cushions, a couple of books, a notebook and the remote for the television. He considered wandering down to Tony’s lab, it would have been interesting to see what he was working on, but he doubted Tony would appreciate his curious company in the way Howard had.

Instead, he picked out a film he hadn’t seen yet from the seemingly endless list of choices and tried to find a comfortable way to crash out on the sofa without putting weight on anything that hurt.

 

Steve woke feeling disorientated, the way he always did when he’d slept for longer than he’d meant to, he stretched out on his bed feeling the various aches and sprains make themselves known. The serum would take care of everything pretty quickly, he was already feeling a little less battered than before he’d slept. But still, lying there wouldn’t ease any of the tightness in his muscles and his stomach was growling. He gingerly swung himself up, pulled on a jumper and ran a hand through his hair, taking a second to admire the rainbow of bruising around his eye before making his way into the living room.

He smiled, finding Bucky sprawled out on the sofa, the beginning of a Mayazaki movie playing on the screen. He leaned down on the back of the sofa, feeling a muscle twinge in his back as he did so

“Good morning, been up long?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not really. Was gonna send a search party for you, but everyone else is gone too.”

“Yeah, guess everyone needs the rest. Breakfast?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What are you making?”

Steve thought for a moment, “Eggs, bacon, lots of toast.”

Bucky nodded, paused the movie and got up stiffly to follow Steve to the kitchen.

“You don’t gotta help if you wanna sit.” Steve said, noting the way Bucky moved. Bucky shrugged at him and fetched the necessary items from the fridge.

After they’d eaten as many eggs and slices of toast as they could, which turned out to be an unsurprisingly large amount, they put the dishes away and settled back on the sofa.

“Wanna keep watching?” Steve asked, gesturing to the screen.

Bucky shrugged and immediately wished he hadn’t. “You’ve seen it before.” He said.

“You haven’t though, it’s a good one, and I don’t mind watching again.”

Bucky restarted the film and tried to get comfortable. He really should just have let Steve sort the breakfast out. His aches and pains were worse now in retribution and worst of all was his shoulder. It was a familiar ache, it didn’t always bother him but if anything was going to start aching horribly, it was the side of his neck where the metal joined flesh. His version of the serum combined with whatever else Hydra had done to him kept it from being a major issue, after all, what use was an assassin in chronic pain for the whole mission? But it was still something the rest of him needed to deal with. He must have wrenched it at some point to set it off hurting this bad though.

“Hey, you want another grain bag?” Steve asked. “And don’t say it’s nothing, I noticed, Buck.”

Bucky huffed a frustrated sigh, it was always a useless endeavour trying to hide anything from Steve. He’d never been good at it. Not that he’d been trying to hide his hurts, everyone was sore after all, he’d just been trying to ignore them.

Steve interpreted Bucky’s non-verbal response and got up and fetched a fresh grain bag, popping the now room temperature one back in the cooler.

“Here, come on, sit up a little.” Steve manhandled him into a different position on the sofa, Bucky smiled remembering many times when he’d done the same to Steve, back when he’d been much smaller and much easier to move about. “Where’s it worse?” Steve asked gently from behind him. Bucky showed him and the grain bag was pressed there firmly, but gently. Bucky watched the screen, enjoying the slower pace of the story, the beautiful animation and the calming music. Mayazaki had been a good choice for today. He felt it lulling him into feeling comfortable and just distracted enough.

When the grain bag was replaced with Steve’s hands Bucky just about melted. Steve’s normally warm hands had been cooled from handling the grain bag, and an ice pack lying on the sofa next to Steve’s hip. His fingers were able to press and knead in a way the grain bag just couldn’t. It was a hundred times better.

And bless him, Steve didn’t say anything but Bucky could tell he had a smile on his face as he watched the film over Bucky’s shoulders. When Steve’s fingers moved up and dug into the base of his skull at the top of his neck he had to bite his lip against a somewhat undignified noise. Steve probably heard it anyway.

Steve kept it up all through the movie until Bucky had felt all the sore tension and ache melt away out of him and he lacked the strength to keep himself upright and ended up leaning more and more of his weight back onto Steve until he drifted off to sleep. By the time the credits started rolling Steve gave up fighting the drowsiness that hadn’t quite left him even after a long sleep. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the warm weight of Bucky on him and the gentle rhythm of his deep, sleepy breaths made it difficult to stay awake.

When Sam finally surfaced and went for a forage into the kitchen he saw the sleeping super soldiers, quietly took out his phone and took a couple of pictures and made his way back out with his snacks.


	9. Reading a Book Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - Couple of weeks later

“Alright, what is it?” Steve laid aside his sketchbook and looked over at Bucky.

“Can’t get comfortable.” Bucky said, squirming. It was the fidgeting that had caught Steve’s attention a little while ago, but he’d let Bucky be for a few minutes before it went on a little too long. If Bucky was taking that long to be settled, then there was something wrong, and Steve was going to do his best to fix it. Bucky had been through enough discomfort.

“You wanna come over here?” Steve invited, thinking that maybe a bit of contact would help.

“You’re drawing.” Bucky said, not meeting Steve’s eye. That meant he wanted to be close but didn’t want to disturb Steve. Even though Steve had reassured him that if there was anyone he didn’t mind being bothered by or interrupted by, it was Bucky. It stung that Bucky even needed to be reminded of that.

“It’s alright, you can come over here if you want. I’ll just draw around you.” That earned him a shy smile, one that Bucky had never really had before the war and HYDRA, there hadn’t been much shyness to Bucky back then. Steve was still learning to accept all the expressions he wasn’t used to seeing on that face.

“Come on,” Steve patted the seat next to him, unable to avoid comparing Bucky to a shy cat he was trying to entice into comfort.

Bucky shuffled over until he was pressed against Steve’s side, but he couldn’t seem to find a comfortable place to put his metal arm, as if he was worried about it digging into Steve’s shoulder or ribs. So he curled the other way, facing the back of the sofa, his back against Steve’s side, his book propped up on his drawn in knees. Steve waited patiently for him to settle and was somewhat smugly satisfied when Bucky appeared to find a comfy spot.

Steve tried not to jostle him as he reset his sketchbook on his lap and continued drawing. He relished the times when he could just sit and sketch, he hadn’t felt much like it in recent years, too busy, but he hadn’t realised how much of a gap in his heart it had left. Plus, Sam was badgering him to make sure he made time to do more things that were just nice things for himself.

A couple of minutes passed by in peace before Steve felt Bucky shifting next to him again.

“Am I jabbing you? He asked, he’d been trying to sketch carefully, without elbowing Bucky in the back, it wasn’t an ideal position for sketching but he wasn’t about to ask Bucky to move when he’d just gotten comfy at last.

“Nah, just, can’t settle.” Bucky huffed in frustration.

“You could go for a spin in the gym?” Steve suggested, that was his all-too predictable go-to option for when he was feeling restless. “Or take a nice long bath?”

“Don’t wanna.” Bucky grumbled, at least that was still familiar from the old days. Bucky would get irritable and grumpy when he was over tired or uncomfortable. Steve worried he was pestering Bucky with questions, he just wanted to know what he could do to help without putting pressure on Bucky to make decisions if he didn’t have the energy for it.

Bucky turned himself about and let his metal arm rest over the back of the sofa, his hand resting near Steve’s head. Steve didn’t want to point out to him that he’d have trouble turning the pages of his book and holding it up in one hand, but he’d noticed that Bucky hadn’t got much reading done so far that evening.

“Better?” Steve asked, Bucky shrugged and Steve gave him a sympathetic look. A couple of minutes later and Steve could still feel how irritated Bucky was. He was fidgeting less, probably in an attempt to not jog Steve’s pencil, but Steve could tell he wasn’t really relaxing. He wasn’t turning the page either.

So, he closed his sketchbook and set it down beside the sofa. He put a steady hand on Bucky’s shoulder to forestall the sad look that was creeping into his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Can you tell me what you need?”

Bucky ducked his head, “Just wanna read my book.” He said quietly. It kind of broke Steve’s heart a little to hear the hesitation in his voice sometimes when Bucky expressed what he wanted. It was like he was still unsure he was allowed to make choices or have preferences. Steve knew he’d probably indulge Bucky anything, partly because it was Bucky asking but also to reassure him that it was okay to want, to choose, to have. He tried not to think of how Bucky had used his easy charm to get whatever he wanted before, not selfishly or taking advantage of people, but not afraid to ask, to press, to give and receive.

“Y’know, I could read to you, if you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure, gimmie,” Steve reached for the book and resettled himself into a more comfortable reading position. “You can just settle down there however you want.”

“However?” Steve flicked back through a couple of pages to remind himself of the story, he’d read this one before which would make the reading aloud easier. So he was too preoccupied to really notice the sudden mischievous glint in Bucky’s eyes.

“Yeah, Buck, however you want.” Steve let out a surprised noise when a cushion was summarily dropped into his lap and Bucky fairly sprawled out over him.

“Guess I asked for that.” Steve chuckled. “Ohkay, fine, make yourself at home and don’t get mad at me when I eventually have to move you because you’ve killed the circulation to my legs.”

Bucky just shrugged again, this time somehow managing to convey a little less restlessness and a little more nonchalance.

“I’m gonna have to use you as a book rest.” Steve said.

“S’fine” Bucky replied, resting his head on the armrest, his chest over Steve’s legs, his legs stretched out. Steve hoped no-one else felt like lounging in the living room for the evening, they’d have to be fine with sitting on Bucky.

“Alright, show me where you got to, ohkay, here we go.”


	10. Caring for Each Other While Ill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - One year later

Bucky could tell Steve was mad as hell, but he couldn’t work up the energy to be truly angry at their situation in the same way though. Steve was sulking, actually, honestly, really sulking.

Both of them had run afoul of circumstances in the most recent mission. A terrible combination of things had produced a toxic gas that had been bad enough to affect even their super soldier serum enhanced systems. They had fixed it in the end, but not before they’d gotten good lung full of the stuff. It left them feeling unwell, dizzy, coughing, feverish.

These days Bucky was more used to feeling terrible than Steve, in a strange reversal of how things used to be. Post-serum Steve brushed off most things or wasn’t even affected. He hadn’t had a cold since the forties and was taking this particular hit rather badly.

They were back home in the compound, tucked up in bed to be ill and somewhat miserable on their own. Steve was lying on his side trying not to sniffle or shiver too much. His brow was furrowed and the set of his mouth spoke all too eloquently of how irritated he was to be sickly and bed ridden. Bucky would have chuckled if he wasn’t busy coughing.

“Come on, Steve.” Bucky cajoled, voice rasping and quiet. It hurt to talk but he didn’t want to leave Steve in grumpy silence. “It won’t last long,” Bucky reminded him. Bruce had done a little research and they’d been checked over by the doctors, everyone seemed to think that their enhanced systems would sort it out soon.

“This is ridiculous.” Steve said, his voice just as wrecked and it tugged at Bucky’s heart and mind bringing up all sorts of memories. The serum had changed so much about Steve’s body but his voice all cracked and dry like that was just the same.

“Just like old times.” Bucky said, smiling a little.

“Exactly.” Steve groused. Bucky reached over and patted him on the shoulder in sympathy.

There was a knock on the door and Sam came in bearing a lap tray with two steaming mugs of tea and an array of medicines.

“Hey, how we doin’?” he asked approaching the bed and placing the tray down on the side table by Steve’s head.

Bucky made a noise that he hoped would convey how he felt well enough without words. Steve just tried to bury his face in the pillow.

“Wow, that good, huh? He always like this?” Sam asked, gesturing to Steve. Bucky nodded.

“Not usually this sulky though.”

Steve had never liked being coddled or feeling like his ill health was a burden on others, fiercely independent and stubborn he would tough it out as much as possible before giving in and being cared for. Unlike Bucky, who, though rarely ill, had tried to be a good patient. He had always reasoned that if he just did as he was told he’d get better faster and there’d be more time for the dance halls and other delightful things. Not to mention all the extra attention and cuddles he failed to pretend he enjoyed.

“Well fancy that, Cap getting a good ass kickin’ from a cold. S’gotta suck, dude.  But look at all the goodies I’ve brought you, dunno if any of it will touch what you’ve got or if this kinda stuff actually helps super soldiers…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve managed. Bucky nodded his thanks.

“Hey no problem. I’ll just be crashing out, doing my paperwork in front of the tv, gimmie a buzz if you need anything.”

“Okay, we will.”

“Get some rest, you’ll be back in the gym in no time. And drink that tea, Bruce says it’ll help.”

Sam left and Bucky was grateful that there hadn’t been too much teasing or any photographs. That had been all Tony, Clint and Natasha. Bucky was grateful too that even though he was laid up in bed feeling terrible and more than a little pathetic it had been he and Steve who had gotten the worst of the gas. If it was enough to make them feel this bad he dreaded to think what would have happened to the others without the benefits of the serum to protect them.

“Alright, gimmie my tea.” Bucky said, shifting himself upright, feeling achy and weak. He hated it, it felt like coming out of cryo, all trembly and disorientated. Steve just groaned.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Am I gonna have to crawl over you to get it? I will and I won’t be kind about it. Be lucky if I don’t drop the whole thing on ya.”

“Fine,” Steve mumbled and attempted to sit himself up. It was so wrong to see how Steve’s arms shook as he tried to push himself upright, so Bucky reached over to help set him against the headboard. Bucky did crawl over him then and pressed one of the mugs into Steve’s hands. Steve was tired and listless, his shoulders slumped and dark circles under his still bloodshot eyes. Bucky had only been joking about spilling his tea but he almost did. He flopped gently back against the headboard next to Steve, discreetly looking to make sure that Steve had enough pillows to prop him up.

The tea was nice, just black tea, slightly sweetened, but really good, the proper stuff. He sipped at it, using both hands to steady the mug as his right hand was shaking. The warmth felt soothing though through his fingers and palm and it did relieve the scratchy ache in the back of his throat. Steve was less cautious and went for the drink it down quickly approach when it had cooled enough. He replaced his mug on the side and began rooting through the other things Sam had brought in.

“Anything good?” Bucky asked, still getting through his tea. Modern medicine was still a bit lost on him, neither of them needing it much. Steve made a negative sounding grunt.

“Maybe this,” He held out the open container of Vicks Vaporub for Bucky to sniff. He breathed it in feeling the strong menthol clear a pathway right through his nose and into his chest. He nodded and transferred his mug to his left hand so he could scoop out some of the stuff from the tub.

“At least I can manage this by myself.” Steve said, a very slight smile in his voice as he rubbed some of the Vicks on his own chest.

“We could try a few of these things,” Steve said, “But I think sleep is probably gonna do the trick just as well. Unless you want anything?” Steve suggested. Bucky shrugged.

“I dunno if I’ve got the energy to figure out half of what those things are.” He gestured to the pile of medicine and cold relief things Sam had brought. “Sleep sounds pretty good though.” He finished his tea but as he was going to pass Steve the mug his shivering increased and the mug handle broke off under the pressure of his left hand and the mug cracked as it fell out of his grasp.

“Damn,” Bucky groaned, scrambling to gather up the bits of broken mug.

“Hey, s’okay, it was empty.” Steve said, helping.

“I’ve broken so much stuff here, Steve.”

“You’re not the only one. Me and Clint have left a fair few broken dishes in our wake and Tony blows things up near enough everyday.”

Once the broken pieces had all been collected and moved safely to the tray Bucky flopped back, exhausted. Steve reached for the panel just above the table where he could dim out the windows bringing the room into a comfortable dark.

“Hate sleeping sitting up.” Steve muttered as he tried to make himself comfortable shoulder to shoulder with Bucky.

“I know.” Bucky said, his eyes closing as he pulled the blanket further up around him.

Bucky felt Steve lean into him, Steve was always warm now, though Bucky thought all those times in cryo freeze had left some cold in his blood forever, though right now it seemed like the fever was burning it up a bit. Steve next to him helped ease the shivering, though he felt his cheeks burning. He shifted his hand and in a gesture that was more muscle memory than anything else and pressed the back of it against Steve’s forehead.

“S’too hot to cuddle.” Bucky moaned.

“You’re shivering though.” Steve said sleepily. Bucky would have squirmed but it was just too much of an effort.

“Didn’t I see some cool packs on that tray?” He said. He felt Steve moving and though it was hot and they were both a little prickly from it, he missed the weight and presence of Steve leaning into him. Something cold was pressed gently against his forehead and he breathed a sigh of relief. He worked his feet out of the blankets but kept his top half wrapped up, it was almost uncomfortably hot but like Steve, it was also a comfort.

“Thanks, Stevie.” Bucky slurred with drowsiness.

“S’okay.” Steve replied, just as muzzily. Bucky wondered if it was really just exhaustion and illness dragging them off to sleep so quickly or if the tea had been dosed with something. He told himself to make sure to have words with Banner and Sam about that later when he wasn’t drifting off into a deep, soothing sleep.


	11. Patching up a Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - Pre-mid credits scene

Steve knelt before Bucky, a med-kit open on one side and Bucky’s torn jacket on the other. The gentle thrum of the jet hummed around them as Steve sat on his heels and tried to decide where to begin.

Bucky’s eyes were half closed, what Steve could see of his eyes were unfocussed and glassy. There was blood all over his face and Steve couldn’t tell where the wounds were, there was so much of it. His own hurts were busy making themselves known just as he was busy ignoring them. He could wait.

Up front in the cockpit the new king of Wakanda was flying them to his home. That was a little more than surprising and Steve was certain long and serious discussions were to be had in his near future. But first…

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up.” He said softly. “Buck?” Steve checked again when Bucky didn’t respond.

“You with me, pal?” Steve asked, reaching up to hold Bucky’s jaw gently. Bucky raised his head a little and Steve peered through the dark curtain his hair made. Bucky nodded the smallest nod, unable to hide the wince moving his head produced. Steve swallowed hard, he could still hear the horrible metallic impact of Tony kicking Bucky in the head. He couldn’t quite bring himself at look at what remained of Bucky’s left arm either.

Steve wondered just how much damage had been done, he knew next to nothing about that metal arm and he would’ve given anything for Sam to be there on hand with all his Para-rescue field medic abilities, even if he too had no idea what to do about the arm, his calming presence would have helped.

“M’just gonna check your head, ohkay?” Steve near whispered. And then gently, oh so gently he ran his fingers over Bucky’s head, his fingers combing through his hair. It was tangled, damp with sweat and sticky with blood in places. Bucky had gone very still. He’d been sitting listlessly but Steve could feel the change that came over him. He remembered the files he’d read. He’d seen the pictures of the damned machine they’d tortured him with. Steve made the connection and withdrew his hands slowly, memories of things clamping around his head and the recent hurts had ramped Bucky’s tension levels too high.

“I’m sorry, Buck.” Steve whispered. And he was. Sorry that he’d been blasted aside again and that Bucky had been left to defend himself like back on that train all those years ago. Sorry that he hadn’t been able to reach him in time. Sorry that HYDRA had taken and broken him and turned him into a weapon. Sorry that he’d taken so long to get him back. Sorry that he hadn’t been there for him in the last two years. Sorry that all this stuff had happened with Zemo. Sorry that Tony had nearly killed him and just plain sorry.

His throat was tight, he felt wrung out, tired, aching, heartbroken. It was too much, too much to process. He stripped his gloves off and laid them aside, giving himself a moment to suck in a deep breath and get things in check. Sam would be telling him not to bottle it up, but Sam wasn’t there and Bucky was and Bucky was hurting and Steve really couldn’t allow that to continue anymore.

He picked up a cloth from the med kit and doused it with some anti-septic fluid. He looked up hoping his expression didn’t betray him too much, not that he had anything to be ashamed of, Bucky had seen him at his absolute worse in so many ways over the years, but he didn’t want to lay anymore guilt on him. Bucky was looking tiredly at him, eyes still clouded with hurt, but the frozen stillness had left him and he was back to just plain exhausted.

Role reversal, huh?” Steve cracked, Bucky’s mouthed twitched into a brief smirk.

“Yeah.”

Bucky let his eyes drift closed as Steve gently wiped away the blood from his face and hair. He barely flinched when Steve brushed over bruises and cuts. Most of them had stopped bleeding already, a couple were a little deeper though.

“Doing alright?” He checked in, Bucky nodded again. “This one here’s gonna need a bit of help.” Steve gestured to the gash above Bucky’s eye. He took out some gauze and some steristrips. “Though, if you’re anything like me it’ll be closed up soon enough.”

When Steve was done, Bucky blearily opened his eyes, Steve was still worried about the hit to the head he’d taken, and the shot to his ribs, and then there was his arm. He’d avoided it long enough.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, his voice weaker than he’d meant it to be.

“I dunno. Kinda. Not like….I dunno.”

“I…don’t think I can do anything about that one.” Steve said, surprised to hear the admission come from his own lips. It hit him again that this was the second time Bucky had had to go through losing an arm. His throat was tight again and the sting in his eyes came faster than he could fight it.

“Who else can say they lost their left arm twice?” Bucky said, a little smile in his voice. “Dunno where all my luck went.”

“Buck, we’ll figure something out.”

“I know.”

“Your star’s all scuffed.”

“So’s yours.”

“What?” Steve looked down at his chest, the white star in the middle of his chest was smeared with soot and blood. He could have laughed at the imagery of it all but he settled for a small smile instead.

“Alright, well…uh, we can figure out your arm later, at least we don’t have to wrap it or worry about you bleeding out.”

“I don’t like the wires.” Bucky said, his voice suddenly small and without the trace of a smile. He’d ducked his head again, his eyes hidden behind his hair again.

“Hey, it’s ohkay. I’ll find something to cover it up.” It didn’t seem right to patch him up with a bandage, but there was little else to be had that would suffice. So, he took a sling from the med kit and carefully wrapped Bucky’s metal shoulder with it.

“That better?” He asked. Bucky looked, breathed out a sigh of relief and nodded. Steve agreed, it was much better. “Good. Alright, can you finish checking your head for any cuts and lumps while I see your side?”

He hoped Bucky would be more comfortable checking his own head, it was a little awkward though, Bucky had to reach and twist to reach all over the left side of his head whilst trying to keep his midriff still as Steve applied some burn gel to the scorched graze racked across his ribs.

Steve felt some of the sadness at fighting Tony leech away when he saw the deep bruising like paint splotches all over Bucky’s torso.

He wished he had some of the muscle rub he used whenever he came out of a fight more purple than peachy. It was sitting in a draw in his rooms at the compound. Maybe they’d have something similar in Wakanda. He replaced Bucky’s undershirt and left his hand on his side, not gripping or heavy, just a gentle firm presence.

Steve felt a little better now that Bucky was cleaned up a little, he sat resting his elbows on Bucky’s knees, running his eyes over him in a once over to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Bucky nudged him on the arm.

“Switch places.” He said.

“Huh?”

“Your turn.”


	12. Taking a Bath Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - Wakanda - Pre-mid credits scene

“I uh, might need a little help.”

That was all he’d had to say, but it had taken a lot to get the words out. It was difficult asking for help, but at least he knew he was asking the right person. Steve would do just about anything for him, and Bucky was still getting used to the idea that still applied after all the things he’d done. But then, Steve’s bull-headed optimism wouldn’t really stand for anything less. So that was how the two of them had ended up in the tub together, both full grown super-soldiers, like they were five again. They would never fit into the old tub back before, but the Wakandan facilities were something else. There was enough room for both of them to lean back and stretch out without kicking the other in the hip.

They weren’t stretched out now though. Battered and bruised, still reeling slightly from the loss of his arm (again) Bucky couldn’t reach half the places he wanted to scrub let alone get out of his clothes.  Not with one arm, aching ribs and bruises basically everywhere. Not to mention his head, the pounding, dizzying pain had mellowed down but he wanted to avoid moving as much as possible.

And damn but Steve hadn’t even balked at the thought, even though they hadn’t shared a bath together since the war. Back when that had been the most sensible way to save hot water. Seemed like there was an endless supply these days though.

Bucky sat with his back to Steve. Steve’s hands lathering up his hair with something that smelled spicy and…was it…coconut…? He wasn’t sure if that was right or not, it didn’t matter. It was nice and the water steamed and smelled like soft minerals and spices.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, letting the water warm him from the outside in.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, now,” Steve chided, obviously reading the tired set of Bucky’s shoulders.

“M’tired though.”

“I know you are, but if you fall asleep here I’m gonna have a hard time getting you up outta the tub. Probably slip on the tiles and do us both in.”

“You can carry me now, easy.”

“Sure, when I’m not covered in bruises.”

“Your friend hits real hard.”

“Says the guy who had the metal arm.”

Bucky huffs a laugh at that and Steve can barely believe that Bucky can laugh about it at all, he certainly doesn’t feel like there’s much to laugh at. Maybe when he’s had a good sleep he’ll be able to think the last few days through properly.

“Alright, close your eyes, rinsing time.” Steve said, Bucky was glad of the change in track, rather than continue the previous line of conversation, he knew that only sorrow and guilt and shame lay that way, for both of them. Steve used his cupped hands to pour water over Bucky’s head, managing to keep it from running into his eyes.

“That feels much better.” Bucky said, his voice all low and soft and tired.  

“Yeah? Good.”

“This place is huge.” Bucky said again. He knew he was starting to drift, talking nonsense. He’d forgotten he got that way, passed tired and out the other side, his filter slipping away, just his mouth running on.

“T’Challa wants us to feel welcome here, you need anything you let someone know, kay?” Steve reassured him, even though Bucky had been there when T’Challa had said it, though to be fair he had been concentrating on not passing out at the time.

Bucky slouched down, pillowing his head on his arm on the lip of the tub.

“Seriously, pal, don’t fall asleep here.” Steve warned.

“What’re you gonna do “bout it?”

Steve flicked water at his face, which was a pretty pathetic seeing as how Bucky was already wet. Bucky retaliated splashing at Steve half-heartedly with his foot.

In the end, Steve didn’t need to carry him out, though as far as Bucky was concerned it was a near thing. He stumbled into the bed he’d been given and wrapped himself in the blanket. The big glass window looked out onto a hazy night, the silhouettes of strange jungle trees dark and unfamiliar. Steve’s weight nearby was more than enough to help lull him into a sleep before he could get caught up in thinking too hard about what tomorrow would bring.

 


	13. Taking a Bath Together #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Winter Soldier – Steve finds Bucky a month later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I'd already done the taking a bath together prompt, I wanted to do another take on it, set a little earlier on. Bucky hasn't quite settled with the realisation of everything HYDRA did to him, he's still figuring out how to be a person and not a weapon.

“Is this ohkay, Buck?” Steve asked him tentatively. Bucky nodded. Not just because he thought Steve expected it to be ohkay, but because he wanted so desperately to be warm and clean. He watched as Steve fussed with the taps, making sure the water was just right. There were bottles around on the shelves, he had no idea what they were filled with. Steve didn’t reach for any of them.

“Do you want me to leave you to it?” Steve was still tentative, unsure. It struck Bucky as wrong, Steve wasn’t tentative…was he? He wasn’t sure if it was because he was remembering Steve differently to how Steve was now. It was confusing. But he remembered baths. He remembered showers too, but baths were from before, so they were better. Weren’t they?

“You can stay.” He said out loud, it sounded more like a question, a hope that Steve would stay. He hoped Steve would be ohkay with that. He didn’t know how to feel about everything that had happened so he didn’t expect Steve to know. Except…Steve had always been so sure, before. Hadn’t he?

“Alright, I’ll stay, if you want.”

Bucky nodded at him. The water was filling up the tub quickly so he started to undress. His clothes were damp from the rain, the jacket was heavy, the trousers worse. His shoes were wet and his feet were cold. He toed them off and placed them neatly beside the folded pile of clothes. His hands hesitated at the waistband of his undershorts. He knew, as sure as he knew how to tie his shoes and fire a rifle, he knew that undressing in front of Steve was ohkay. There was a faint memory that they had shared baths before, two children happily splashing away, sharing hot water. Was that what Steve had meant when he said he would stay?

Bucky shucked off the underwear in a brisk motion, appreciating that Steve had turned his attention back to the running water, his broad back turned to him, giving him some measure of privacy. Goodness knows he’s been realising the lack of that in his life. Steve wasn’t undressing too,  he was setting out a bar of honey coloured soap and a soft washcloth. There was also a razor and Bucky ran a hand over his chin, feeling the rough scratch there. It didn’t take long for the tub to be filled, Bucky waited patiently, standing back until Steve turned.

“Ohkay, that should do it.” Steve said ohkay a lot, Bucky wasn’t sure if that was because it really was, or would be, or if it was just something Steve said to convince himself that everything would be ohkay. Bucky hoped too.

So he nodded and stepped over to the bath, bending to touch the water with his flesh hand. It was perfect, enveloping his hand in a gentle heat. Nothing scorching or burning. Nothing cold and biting. It scared him to think that a few months ago he wouldn’t have cared about the temperature of the bath, not if they gave him the order to get in. He would have burnt himself red and raw if they told him to. He might have fought against it, the body’s will to live and avoid harm would have been just enough of a push to make him think of disobedience.

Bucky shivered, Steve noticed.

“Hey,” Steve said, kneeling beside him, putting a hand out and touching Bucky’s arm gently. “It’s ohkay,” There it was again. “You’re safe.” Bucky almost hated the way Steve could see right through him and read what was going on in his head like a damn book. But it was from before, he remembered, it had always been that way. He never could lie to Steve, not for very long. Bucky studied Steve’s face for a moment, knowing that he’d used to been able to read Steve just as well. Like they were in each other’s heads. He didn’t want Steve in his head now. There were things in there that Steve shouldn’t have to see.

Realising he was staring, Bucky shock himself back into the moment. A fine steam rose gently from the water, inviting him in. So, he stepped carefully into the water, going slow so he didn’t slip. It was wonderful, delightful, exquisite, words he hadn’t thought for so long flooding into his mind as he sank down into the warmth.

Steve was smiling at him in something like satisfaction, like he was so pleased that Bucky was there and able to enjoy the simple pleasure of hot water.

“So, personal grooming hasn’t changed all that much.” Steve said, leaning forward against the tub. He gestured to the nearest shelf of bottles. “There’s about a million different things you can use and they all come in a dizzying array of options. I thought we’d just keep it simple for now,” He smiled at Bucky, pointing at the soap. Bucky reached out and took it, bringing it to his face so he could examine it better.

“It smells like honey,” He said, slightly surprised.

“It’s one of the least fancy ones around. You used to-” Steve stopped himself abruptly, ducking his head.

“It’s okay,” Bucky told him. “You can say it, I think it helps.”

Steve looked back up at him, all sad and gentle. “You took pretty good care of yourself, Buck, you remember that?”

“A little…  I think I had less of this.” He motioned to the scruff around his jaw. Steve laughed light and free.

“You just liked to look your best.”

Bucky nodded, that felt right, though he couldn’t yet remember why he would have needed to look his best…he remembered…something else…

“I wore my hat wrong.” He began softly, his turn to be tentative, as he always was when he was remembering out loud. Just in case it was wrong. “You teased me for it but you said it looked good, too.”

“Your dress uniform? Yeah, you wore it properly when you had to, but never around town.” Bucky nodded again, that sounded right too. It was hard, but every memory shared and confirmed was another brick placed in rebuilding who he was and who he had been. Each one like a hammer breaking down what HYDRA had made him into and putting another piece back into the puzzle that had started with those words on the helicarrier and what he’d read in the museum after that.

And HYDRA had taken so, so much. The more he learned, the more he remembered, the more he realised the enormity of what had been stolen and broken and twisted in him. But they hadn’t completely taken away some things.

He may have been their weapon, but he had been their weapon capable of performing at least basic self-maintenance. Who wanted a weapon so dependant physically on them that it was no more than a cumbersome and tiresome gun, unable to plan and adapt and make it back to it’s handlers when things went wrong. HYDRA had left him some things, if only to make maintenance easier for them.

He hadn’t forgotten how to find food enough to survive, he hadn’t forgotten how to wash himself, even if there hadn’t been soap that smelled like honey and water that was soft and warm.

So, he took the soft wash-cloth and the soap, lathered it up, it was creamy and fragrant and he felt a sudden desire to know what the other fancier things smelled of because this was divine and Steve said there were things even better? He couldn’t imagine it.

He washed slowly, reminding himself that he had time, no-one was rushing him, it was ohkay. Meanwhile, Steve chattered away to him. Steve had the patience of a saint, he didn’t mind that Bucky asked questions about things that he knew he’d known before. Steve was happy to share a memory or talk about the way things were in the world now, he talked about his friends, the Avengers. Bucky knew about them of course but only in terms of his last and most public mission as the Winter Soldier. Useful background tactical knowledge only. It was nice to hear about them as people now, not just potential threats and future targets.

Bucky didn’t want to leave the water. He was clean now from head to toe, just soaking and wondering how long he was allowed to stay there, warm and pampered. Steve had given him a bottle of something to wash his hair and then Steve had shaved him because Bucky couldn’t quite remember the finer points as someone from HYDRA had performed this task. And, more to the point, he didn’t entirely trust himself with a sharp object in Steve’s presence. Just in case.

“Hey, uh, you wanna cut your hair too?” Steve asked as he set aside the razor. Bucky considered this for a moment before shrugging.

“I dunno. Yeah, maybe. Not right now.”  He wasn’t sure he was ready to look in the mirror at all let alone look and see the marks of the last seventy years in the eyes of the face he’d seen in the museum. At least with his hair longer he didn’t have to look like the smiling man standing next to Steve in the video. He didn’t want to feel like he was pretending. He remembered who he was but…well. The girls would hardly be lining up to dance with the guy with a metal arm. He couldn’t be who he was back then… and he wasn’t what HYDRA had made him…. but he wasn’t entirely sure what that made him now. Besides, the thought of someone, anyone, being near his head with scissors made his skin crawl just a little bit.

“That’s fine, now you’re nice and clean you can probably pull it off. Lotsa guys have longer hair now anyway.”

Bucky nodded. He’d seen how fashions changed through time over the course of over a dozen missions, not that he’d been in a frame of mind to pay much attention to the length of skirts or hair beyond confirming a target.

Pushing aside thoughts of hair cutting, Bucky worried at his lip as he considered a different memory. It was another one with Steve, and a tub. They weren’t children, though there was still a fair amount of splashing. And…the one with the moustache…Dugan? He had been yelling at them to not waste the water.

“Oh that?” Steve chuckled when Bucky shyly related the thought. “Gee, you’re getting the most random memories back, Buck. Still, guess this one makes sense in context. Yeah, we shared a bath a couple times while we were hunting HYDRA with the others.” He paused, giving Bucky space to either stop him or let him continue.

“Tell me?”

“We had just blown up one of the HYDRA weapons facilities, Dernier was feeling pretty good about that one, let me tell ya. We were on our way back to Allied ground when we lost our bearings, got into an argument and our little truck broke down not far out from this little village. Turns out we were closer to the allies than we’d thought and Gabe sweet talked the local barman to let us stay the night. They even heated a tub of water or two for us all so we could freshen up good and proper.”

Bucky smiled, that was it. They’d been filled with the satisfaction of a job well done and an unexpected night off.

He wondered if Steve would join him if he asked. The water was cooling and he had been pretty filthy so it wasn’t the most inviting prospect anymore. And Steve had said the hot water didn’t run out anymore, so maybe there wasn’t any real need for them to share. But… maybe. Another time, he could think of a way to ask Steve, if only just once more, just for old time’s sake. Maybe next time.

 


	14. One Character Playing with the Other's Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Winter Soldier - Half a year later

Steve couldn’t get back to sleep. He’d tried, he’d gotten up, washed his face, stretched. He’d tried listening to music, he”’ tried reading, he’d tried lying still with his eyes closed. He’d switched sides in the bed and still he couldn’t sleep. He sighed, resigned. He knew what he needed and it wasn’t a book or Youtube or music, he needed company. Until recently he hadn’t realised just how lonely he’d been or how much he needed company sometimes.

So, Steve carefully and quietly crept down the hall to the spare room that was now Bucky’s room. The door wasn’t latched, he didn’t knock. They had an agreement, they didn’t need to knock. He padded softly to the bed, pausing for just a moment. He knew it was ohkay, but he still didn’t want to wake Bucky, not when he was sleeping so soundly. Steve smiled down at him, curled on his side and comfortable. He stepped around the bed and carefully crawled into it from the other side. He wouldn’t have done this a couple of months ago, not when a sudden awakening was enough to provoke a violent panic response. But things had gotten better and leaving their doors open had been Bucky’s idea, that way they didn’t have to feel so bad about waking the other up. When Steve’s weight dipped the bed Bucky stirred, half turning over to check it was Steve.

“Hey,” Steve said, reaching out to put a hand on Bucky’s back to reassure him.

“Hey,” Bucky replied muzzily, blinking sleepy eyes at him.

“Sorry, couldn’t sleep.” Steve explained unnecessarily.

“Wanna talk about it?” Bucky offered even though Steve could see him fighting to stay awake.

“No, it’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

Bucky turned back over and pressed his back against Steve’s chest, Steve had to move his hand or have it trapped between them. He brought it up and laid it on top of Bucky’s arm, his hand falling to rest by Bucky’s neck. Before he was really aware of it, he was running his fingers through Bucky’s hair, gently. He paused, wondering if it would disturb Bucky, but a mostly asleep voice said,

“S’fine.” And so Steve combed his fingers through Bucky’s hair. It was still long, well, just passed his chin, plenty to rake his fingers through, short enough not to be tangled. Steve felt Bucky sigh heavily and then felt his breathing even out less than a minute later. The company, the warmth, the cosiness of closeness, his fingers in Bucky’s hair and their deep breathing soon sent him dreaming.


	15. Forehead Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Civil War - few months later

“Nah man, I’m not racing you, that’s just plain stupid.” Sam crossed his arms.

“You know you’ll lose.” Bucky smirked.

“Hell yeah, I’m not pumped up with some super soldier cheating serum. Gimmie my wings and it’ll be a different story.”

“And those aren’t cheating?”

Sam made a face, “Well, seeing as I took you out with “em once and then you destroyed a set, I think we’d call it even.”

Bucky shook his head, smiling in what Sam considered a somewhat dangerous manner. “We’re not even.”

“Not with that.” Sam gestured to Bucky’s metal arm. “Listen I’m all up for a good honest contest but unless Steve starts hopping instead of jogging and unless you start strapping that thing up and going through this one handed? It ain’t gonna be a match.”

“That’s wise, Sam, knowing your limits.” Steve said from the side lines.

“You shut up, Rogers.” Bucky said, pointing a finger at him. “You don’t know a damn thing about limits, you got no say in this.”

Steve looked vaguely offended, Sam shrugged at him, “He’s got a point, dude.”

Steve laughed and carried on with his weights. Sam looked back at Bucky who was giving the assault course a calculating look.

“I can do this one handed.” He said after a moment. Sam rose his eyebrows at him.

“Oh really? Aright, I look forward to looking down at your sorry ass on the ground from the top of the monkey bars then.”

“Not a problem.”

“And the curved wall’s just gonna be fine for you with one hand is it?”

“Guess we’ll see. Ready?”

“Wait. Hey Steve! You wanna film this? Your old pal here’s about to make a compelling clip for America’s Home Video right here.”

“I’m sure security’s got it covered. I could get my phone though, if you want my commentary?”

“Sounds great, do that.”

“Stop stalling, bird.”

“Ohkay, let’s do this.”

 

Sometime later, the three of them were riding the elevator up from the gym, freshly showered and laughing at the workout-turned-ridiculous-competition. Sam had agreed on lunch out and about with Natasha, which left Steve and Bucky to raid the kitchen unsupervised.

“I always think I should feel guiltier than I do about this.” Steve said, stirring the large pan of pasta. Bucky fairly sauntered up and slung and arm around his neck.

“You always make sure it’s restocked before long. No-one goes hungry here.”

“I know. I used to feel bad about needing extra rations too. Can’t seem to shake it sometimes, y’know?”

“I’m just happy I get to choose what to eat most days.” Bucky said nonchalantly as he reached for more cheese and dropped it into the pasta. Steve smiled, Bucky was always the better cook of the two of them, not that either of them were fantastic, but they’d survived thus far and hadn’t burned down their old apartment in Brooklyn back in the day or the Avengers compound. Yet.

“It was good to see you and Sam getting along so well today.” Steve said, a slight tone in his voice that Bucky recognised as a slight cautionary warning.

“I think he’s trying to forgive me for trying to kill him.”

“Sam’s good like that. I told you, just give him time.”

“He teases me worse than Falsworth.” Bucky groused, Steve laughed aloud at that.

“He’s not that bad, Buck! Neither was Monty, not really.”

“Falsworth teased me all the damn time!”

“Yeah, but he teased everybody, it was his way of showing affection.”

“Sam would’ve fit in just right, back then.” Bucky said, a little quieter. Steve felt a burst of pure joy in his chest then.

“Yeah, I’ve thought that before, too. I think that’s really why you two argue so much, you would’ve both been in competition for the token sensible person in the Howling commandos.”

“Steve, come on! We both know that was Peggy.”

The joy turned a little sharp and a little more tugging. Bucky was right, of course, but it still hurt to think of her, to know he wasn’t going to be able to see her face or hear her voice any time soon. And it didn’t matter how many times he’d come to terms with the reality that he’d never been able to have that dance or to marry her…well. It still hurt.

Bucky’s fingers tightened briefly on Steve’s shoulder and he pressed a chaste kiss to Steve’s temple.

“Still got me though, pal.” He said softly, leaning his weight a little more onto Steve and throwing yet more cheese into the sauce. Steve leaned back into him, Bucky was right again, he did still have Bucky, and Bucky had him too.


	16. One Character Adjusting the Other's Neck Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Winter Soldier - Several months later

Bucky adopted Steve’s usual pose, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, concerned expression on his face. He was watching Steve attempt to tie his bowtie. It was almost painful to watch.

“I can feel you judging me from over there.” Steve said, looking at him in the mirror.

“’Cus you’re not doing it right.” Bucky quipped.

“It’s fine, Buck.”

“No, it’s passable at best.”

Steve adjusted the bow and raised his eyebrows at Bucky. He gestured as if to say ‘What’s wrong with it?’

Bucky shock his head, hair falling into his eyes.

“It’s fine, it’s tied, it’s straight and even.” Steve went to take his suit jacket from the hanger. Bucky quickly strode forward and put a hand on his arm to stop him. Steve sighed heavily and tried to bat Bucky’s hands away as he reached up to undo his tie.

“You gotta let me fix it.” Bucky insisted.

“There’s nothing to fix!”

Bucky glared at him. There was too much of Bucky Barnes’ warmth in the glare for Steve to be worried, this wasn’t Bucky edging nearer to the Winter Soldier Steve sometimes saw under the surface on bad days. This was Bucky being irritated because he thought that Steve wasn’t going to look his best.

“You wanna go through this again?” Steve said cracking a smile.

“You wanna go to this fancy thing looking passable or lookin’ your best?”

Steve sighed. To be honest, it was something he’d missed. Bucky had always been there sprucing him up, making sure he was presentable. Not that Steve had been scruffy, just, well, Bucky had a higher standard than he did and if Bucky was going to drag Steve out on double dates then Bucky would make sure Steve was up to scratch. So he gestured for Bucky to do what he willed and resigned himself to Bucky’s whims.

Bucky deftly undid Steve’s bowtie and set about re-tying it. Steve couldn’t hold back a smirk. Bucky noticed.

“What’re you grinning at?”  
“Nothin’”

“Right.”

Bucky’s fingers moved quickly, only pausing briefly once, bowties weren’t really in the Winter Soldier’s remit but muscle memory lasted a long time, apparently. A few quick tugs and a little evening out and Bucky stepped back, giving Steve a general look over.

“There. See?” Bucky gestured back at the mirror, Steve turned and was ready with a scathing remark about how it was just the same but…

“Damn. Ohkay fine. You were right.”

Bucky grinned, wolfish and smug.

“Yeah yeah, alright. Steve laughed, giving Bucky a playful shove. “You gonna stay and make sure I put my jacket on right?”

“Yep.”

Steve pulled the jacket on carefully, not wanting to wrinkle it. Like the rest of the suit, it fit perfectly, tailored exactly for him, a gift from Tony to wear for all those black tie events Captain America was supposed to attend. Steve didn’t mind them too much, though he preferred the smaller parties where it was just the Avengers and assorted crew. Still, at least bigger events were fewer in between and nothing much was expected of him apart from turning up. Tony would steal the show and he’d be in a few photos, he could put up with that for an evening. Especially as the last one had been a good few months ago. He wasn’t sure how Tony put up with them seemingly every week. 

“So, do I pass muster or what?” Steve said, adjusting his cufflinks.

“Aces, kid.”

Steve tried not to shy away from the compliment, it meant so much to have Bucky back, to have more and more of him back every day.

“Thanks, Buck. You gonna be ohkay?”

Bucky nodded. They both knew the world wasn’t quite ready to deal with him yet. Half of the media would be in uproar because of the Winter Soldier thing and the other half would be hailing the return of Sergeant Barnes. Bucky definitely didn’t want to face either of those opinions from the masses when he was just about managing, with help, to figure out his own thoughts on the matter. So, he wasn’t going to the black tie party instead, Bucky was cosied up in pyjamas and looking forward to a quiet evening.

“Alright, call if you need anything.”

Bucky nodded again.

“Seriously, Buck. Anything, I don’t mind ditching the suits to come back if you want me to, alright?”

“I think I can survive an evening alone. Why, you lookin’ for an excuse to leave early?”

“Not right now, I’ll text if I need an escape route though.”

“Right, codeword?”

“It’ll read something like ‘ _We didn’t fight in World War Two for this_ ’”

That earned him a laugh, brief, quieter than it had been.

“’Kay, you text me that and I’ll give you an out.”

“Well, here’s hoping it doesn’t come to that.” Steve’s phone buzzed, “Car’s here, gotta go.”

“Wait,” Bucky stalled him, adjusting his handkerchief neatly folding it to make a neat square. “Now you can go.”

Steve gripped his arm in thanks.

“Shall I wait up?” Bucky asked as Steve reached the door. He paused, looked back and smiled softly. It wasn’t much of a joke, Bucky wasn’t sleeping well. Steve knew Bucky either wouldn’t be able to sleep or would be woken up instantly the moment Steve came home, keyed up and tense at the sudden noise.

“If you want, Buck. I won’t be out all night.”

“Old man.”

“You’re older than me, pal.” Steve grinned and somewhat reluctantly closed the door behind him.


	17. Back Stratches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Winter Soldier - Several months later

It was 3:48 in the morning. Steve was curled up in bed, his head resting on Bucky’s chest, the Stark pad balanced between his hand and the bend of Bucky’s leg. He’d lost count of how many YouTube videos they’d gotten through. Bucky had been woken by a nightmare and the only way he’d managed to get comfortable again was to have Steve lay across him and to have something to distract him. Steve was getting used to the different kinds of comfort that Bucky needed on nights like this. There was a variety, depending on what memory had woken him up. Tonight it was a solid weight of another person (Steve) and something that let him be outside of his own head a bit that didn’t require intellectual engagement (YouTube).

They were currently making their way through what was apparently called a 'lets-play' of something featuring a small creature made of light restoring a forest. It was artistic and had beautiful music and the guy playing the game was having a great time. Steve wasn’t sure how Bucky had found lets-plays, but he was glad that they provided some sort of no-pressure company during times when Steve had to leave Bucky alone.

He stretched out his legs a bit before curling back up against Bucky’s side and stole a look up at Bucky’s face. He looked calmer now, but very much awake. Steve had stayed up with him to make sure he was alright, but it looked like he’d be able to drift back to sleep, if he wanted to. He was more than a little invested in the game being played out on screen.

He fidgeted a little, trying to hold the Stark pad still and wriggle the itch out of his back. He thought he’d been successful but a minute later it returned. He wriggled about to try and reach it without much success. Then, Bucky’s metal arm, the one draped over Steve’s shoulders, reached down and scratched in just the right spot. Steve let out a massive sigh of contentment, pushing aside his initial reaction to the metal arm, something he was still working on. Bucky huffed a noise of amusement at him.

“Better?” He asked, his voice soft.

“Loads, thanks, Buck.”

Strangely, Bucky kept his hand where it was, lightly scratching across Steve’s back in soft circles. It seemed like an almost unconscious action, something soothing that Steve remembered him doing when he had been much smaller and curled up to Bucky to keep warm. He wondered if muscle memory worked with the metal arm, but he didn’t stop him.

In the end, Steve stayed awake with Bucky until the sun came in through the window. They had reached the end of the game they’d been watching and by then Steve had been interested to know what other games Bucky had found and was wondering if Bucky would like to play as well as watch.

 


	18. Reacting to the Other One Crying About Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Civil War - on the Quinjet on the way to Siberia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had something else in mind for this, but the wonderful [spectral-musette](http://spectral-musette.tumblr.com/) suggested I write this and as it was way better than what I'd had in mind, I included it in this series.   
> So, uhh, sorry for the sads in this one, but I'm only at least half to blame...

Even in the quinjet it was a long flight to Siberia. They were well on their way now, somewhere over a snowy wasteland, no-one on their tail. That was both a relief and a cause for concern, Bucky had seen it in the set of Steve’s shoulders. No-one had followed them, which meant that those of his friends who had fought with them at the airport had been detained. Bucky was still re-learning to read Steve, it had been a long time, but he knew no-one better and things were coming back faster now, it seemed. Bucky shifted in his seat, Steve had sighed, flicked the jet to auto pilot and excused himself. Bucky had expected him to be right back, but he hadn’t returned yet. When he couldn’t stare out at the passing clouds any longer, Bucky unbuckled himself and went looking for Steve.

The quinjet was small, so it didn’t take very long to find him. There weren’t many places to hide, but plenty of small corners to tuck yourself away into. And, towards the back of the jet, that’s exactly what Steve had done.

“Steve?” Bucky called quietly, not wanting to sneak up on him. Steve had curled himself into a dark space behind a crate. His knees were drawn up and his head was buried in his folded arms, hands gripping tight around his knees. Something like panic or pain twisted in Bucky’s chest, his breath coming shorter instantly. Steve didn’t make a lot of noise when he cried, he never had but Bucky had always been able to tell, and super-serum enhanced hearing picked up on all the soft noises Steve was desperately trying to keep in. Bucky took another step forward, feeling hesitant. He wasn’t sure what to do…. he knew he used to know…would Steve want to be left alone? Did he want someone to talk to? Could Bucky just go back to the cockpit knowing Steve was... well. No. He couldn’t.

He stalked over to the crate and stepped around it, crouching down in front of Steve.

He still didn’t know what to do, what to say, so he simply reached out and put his hand on Steve’s arm. It took a moment for Steve to raise his head a little bit, his eyes were red and tears were running down his cheeks.

“Hey.” Steve said in wet, broken sounding voice.

“What’s wrong?”

Steve sniffed and attempted to wipe his face with the back of his uniform sleeve. Bucky watched him wrestle for words for a moment, then…

“You remember Peggy?” Steve asked, tentative, almost afraid.

Bucky nodded. She had been among a fair few entries to his notebooks. He remembered dark eyes in a clever face, perfect red lips and nails. He remembered a quick wit and a strong right hook, star struck eyes as they looked at Steve. She had been one of the more pleasant memories to recover in the last couple of years.

Steve’s eyes sparkled with yet more tears, his mouth trembled.

“She-She’s gone.”

Steve ducked his head again and before Bucky was aware of moving he had his arms wrapped around Steve and was holding him as his shoulders shook. He put his head next to Steve’s and gripped him tightly. After a moment he felt Steve’s arms wrap around him, it made it easier to pull Steve to his chest and hold him better. Bucky didn’t know what to think, he knew Peggy hadn’t been one of his targets, he hadn’t known what had become of her. Like everyone else, she had been buried deep down beneath everything that HYDRA put in his head. Memories of her had returned slowly, like everything else that was coming back. He assumed she had already passed away, but this…this felt like a raw reaction. This was still new for Steve… Bucky held him tighter, feeling his own eyes prickle. He made soothing noises, hoping he was helping. But, he remembered too the soft smile Steve reserved for Peggy, he remembered how Steve had talked about her, how he’d blushed. Bucky wasn’t sure he could help with this hurt.

“It was just the other day.” Steve managed to say. He spoke quickly, as if he knew he wouldn’t be able to get the words out slowly.

“Oh, Steve.” Bucky said. “I’m sorry.”

He felt Steve shake his head. “She lived such a good life, had a family, she… in her sleep.” Steve’s voice broke again and he buried his head in Bucky’s neck. Bucky still didn’t know what to do, so he just held on.

If it had only happened a few days ago… that would have been just before the UN was bombed and he’d been framed and the whole escalation of that particular nightmare.  That meant that through all that, Steve had been pushing aside his grief, pulling down helicopters and defying nations, putting his pain aside so he could hunt down more Russian super assassins. Hadn’t anyone else realised? Had any of them even known?

Bucky wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all. Steve was supposed to have married that girl. Bucky remembered planning a best man’s speech because of course they were going to marry after the war and after HYDRA was dealt with and of course Steve was planning on asking her and no-one else was damn qualified to be his best man. So she’d lived a good life? Well, he was happy for that, but it wasn’t the great life she should have had with Steve. But, that wasn’t anyone’s fault, and Bucky felt well acquainted with grief and blame to know that much.  He was glad he hadn’t run into Peggy since the forties. He wondered if she knew… he hoped she didn’t.

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve said, his voice muffled still. Bucky let Steve pull back, though he felt his reluctance. “You’d think with all the pocket’s I’d remember to pack a handkerchief or something.’ Steve sniffled. Bucky tried to smile at him.

“Did you get to say goodbye?” He asked Steve quietly.

“Not really.” Steve shrugged. “I visited as often as I could, she, uh, she had trouble with her memory, near the end.”

Bucky swore under his breath, “Are you kidding me? She better not have forgotten you too, Steve, that’s just-“

“No, no she always remembered. Sometimes she’d forget again, but, she always remembered.” Bucky nodded, unable to meet Steve’s eye just then.

“Did she know about me?” Bucky asked before he could stop himself. He really didn’t want to make this moment about him and his worries. But…if the fake doctor had woken the others up already…. there was a tough fight ahead of them. “Did you tell her?”

Steve shifted, leaning his back against the bulkhead of the jet, his knees still drawn up, Bucky sat near enough between them.

“Yeah, Buck. I did. Never could keep anything from her.” Bucky nodded again, looking down at Steve’s boots.

“She told me I wasn’t to give up on you, not that I ever would, couldn’t.” Steve cleared his throat, reached out and put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s been a rough couple of years, huh pal?”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile a little at the understatement. He leaned back into Steve’s leg.

“I’m sorry, I ran out on ya.” Bucky grated out. It was important to say. Steve needed to hear it. He needed to say it.

Steve’s hand tightened on his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t remember everything, not at first. And then, after a while, I didn’t know if I was still dangerous to you. Guess we know the answer to that now.”

“Don’t do that, Buck. Just don’t. You never hurt me when you had a choice.”

They sat together in silence for a little longer, they probably needed more time to talk it all through properly. Bucky hoped they’d get it.

“I, uh, guess that caught up with me a bit.” Steve said, shyly. “Think this is the first time I’ve really stopped since the funeral.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed them briskly. Bucky looked pained and scrubbed at his own eyes.

“Can’t believe it’s all happened so quickly.” Steve said, some of the strength coming back to his voice. Somehow he’d found some measure of resolve. Bucky was grateful for that, his own was wearing thin.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Buck.” Steve said again, low and quiet. Bucky wanted to cry then. It was almost too much, Steve had in the space of a few days lost just about everything he’d managed to regain for himself, and he’d just traded half of that for him. He didn’t say it out loud, knew Steve would refuse to listen, would look at him all hurt and stern and that was more than he felt he could take just then. But, Bucky was sure that if he could have swapped places with Peggy…if Steve could have her back, just for a while, instead of him, it would’ve turned out much better for Steve.


	19. Slow Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Winter Soldier - Few months later

It was dark outside, the lights were low and dim. The Avengers compound was quiet and calm. Glenn Millar was playing soft and smooth over the sound system. Bucky wasn’t entirely sure he remembered who that was but he did remember the music. And, apparently, he remembered how to dance.

Steve held him close and safe as they gently swayed to the music, Bucky let his head rest on Steve’s shoulder. This closeness was something he remembered too, though it was a new thing for them since Steve and Sam had tracked him down and brought him to where the Avengers called home. To Bucky, it had been something close to a prison at first, now, months later, it was clearer that he was there more for his safety than for others. He believed that more now than he had before.

Earlier that day Bucky had been remembering dance halls and had started searching online for things to help put the pieces in his mind back into place. When Steve had joined him on the sofa they decided to explore one of the things Bucky had come across, a T.V show featuring a bunch of celebrities being paired up with professional dancers. They’d settled in to watch some recordings of the show and both of them had gotten carried away by it a whole lot more than they had anticipated. It was ridiculous, so very far from the experiences they’d both had of war and what had followed. But maybe that was why it was so appealing. It was just a bunch of people getting together to dance, to Bucky it was like a touchstone, grounding him just a little bit more. Bucky hadn’t been able to keep from reminding Steve of his time on the stage, Steve had tried to be annoyed but Bucky could tell he was pleased at how much Bucky was remembering.

In any case, their surprised enthusiasm had led to a bit of experimentation and a lot moving the furniture. Steve had queued up a playlist of all their favourite hits from their dancing days and the old music began working its charm. To begin with, Steve had remembered more of the moves than Bucky, but after a little bit of being pulled about by Steve some long buried muscle memory seemed to kick in and he took over leading.

After much more laughter than Bucky felt he’d had left in him, they settled into something slower. Glenn Miller’s ‘ _Moonlight Serenade’_ flowed over his bones and made him feel warmed up from the inside. Neither of them were really leading anymore, less dancing and more slowly shuffling.

“Thank you.” Bucky said into Steve’s shoulder. He felt Steve’s arms tighten around him.

“We’re keeping up with that show.” Steve declared. “But we are not ever telling Sam about it, agreed?”

“Deal.” Bucky winced knowing that Sam would just have a field day if he knew how into it the two of them had been.

Steve’s arms tightened again and Bucky melted into his hold. He was safe, and for the first time in a while he truly felt like it. HYDRA wasn’t waiting in every shadow here. Steve being so close wasn’t a dangerous thing, he could hold and be held and it was alright.

It was more than alright, he supposed. It was good. After all, Steve had only stepped on his toes a couple of times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the last one! Ending on a hopeful note.   
> Thank you for the support and encouragement! I'm already working on another fic to post soon!


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